The Human ATeam
by HautkopfofUlm
Summary: The team gets compared to the A-Team and not everybody's happy. This is pretty pwp and utterly silly, but the A-Team is in it, so your argument is invalid. Your review is not though, so make use of it, fools! Have fun:


**Disclaimer: Don't own neither Human Target nor the A-Team and I ain't gettin on no plane!**

**AN: The parallels are obvious, really, right? RIGHT?**

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"-and then when you made the car flip, that was AWESOME!"

Andrew was pacing back and forth between the team members, flailing his arms about. The seventeen year old comic freak with the striped shirt and nerd glasses was their soon to be former client and and now safe, but still on the peak of his adrenaline rush. The team waited for Ilsa to fill out some final paperwork while they were trying to chill in the lounge. It proved impossible with the gawky young man buzzing around them, re-enacting his heroes' every move.

Guerrero and Chance exchanged slightly pained glances. Someone had to bring him down. Chance made no attempt though, he felt rather weary ever since he had seen that exploding car fly right towards him. That hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but wasnNo use to telling their hero-worshipping client. In the end Guerrero took pity on him.

"Dude. This ain't the A-Team."

Andrew stopped in mid-stride, with his arms still raised, and turned his increasingly huge eyes towards Guerrero. Guerrero realized he had said the wrong thing.

"Guerrero-man! You sure about that? I mean, we had the obligatory barrel rolling car! And the similarities don't stop there!" He almost shouted, then abruptly swirled towards Winston with his biggest grin yet.

"Look! That's one grumpy, big black guy if I ever saw one! - No offense, Winston! - You gotta admit he's the closest thing to B.A. Baracus you're likely to see today!" His grin faded a bit and he tilted his head. "'Cept for the Mohawk… again, no offense, Winston!"

Winston dignified this comparison with nothing but a sip from his tumbler. He had to admit though, for the longest time he hadn't been too keen on flying. Until Ilsa turned up with her private jet, of course. And he wasn't too keen on Guerrero. A thought just popped into his head and deeply contentment he leaned back and watched Chance and Guerrero face the inevitable as Andrew whirled around once more.

"Let's see. Handsome blond con-man. Remind you of anyone, Chance? Well, your attitude might be a bit different from the Faceman's after all. Still, close enough."

Chance smiled wearily. Maybe Andrew wasn't so wrong after all. It still felt, at times, like he was on the run from an almighty power. Joubert used to feel like a military court passing judgement and handing out wrongful sentences; there was a definite parallel there. But he had broken away from him, and now he was part of a team of highly individual characters that aimed for the same goal: to change something for the better. Come to think of it, they were together because of him, they turned away from their old jobs because of him. That made him, if maybe not the boss of the lot, the link that held everyone together. Just like Hannibal Smith. _Wait- what?_

"Wait, wait, wait, wait! Andrew, you haven't stuck around long enough to know this, but this whole thing we're running here? Well, I'm kind of the one who the idea originated with, so don't you think I-"

"You? Chance, as far as I remember I'm the one who came to you with the idea of going into the protection business and you turned me down the first time. Now, I can see where you're going with this, but-"

"Okay, I'll admit that you played a major part in setting this all up, Winston, but look where it got us-"

"What's that supposed to mean? Chance, does it really take Waldo here to compare you to a TV character until you say what you wanna say?"

"I'm just saying, Winston, if you had told us that you had the book at some point in all those years, my loft wouldn't have required redecoration-"

"Uh, guys?" "Waldo" popped up. "I don't mean to interfere or anyth-"

"Yeah and _you_ wouldn't have run off to a Tibetan _ashram_-"

"What book? And what's an ashram? Cool down, guys I really didn't mean to… to…"

Andrew became silent when the two quarreling men stopped and looked at him with annoyance.

"Uuuuuh… what? Was it something I said? What's going on here?"

"Chance wants to be Hannibal Smith." Winston stated with a sarcastic grin.

"Nooooo, I, I… I just want to… look, Andrew, I think I can be both Templeton Peck and Hannibal Smith. You wouldn't know, but-"

"Uh, no. Sorry, Chance, but you're definitely no Hannibal." their client, back in his metier, decided.

"What? Why? I mean I'm funny and badass and- oh god, what am I doing here? You know what, Andrew? It's just a stupid TV show, so _I don't care._" The last sentence was directed towards Winston who didn't look too convinced. Andrew shook his head at the childishness of the pair in front of him and resumed his task.

"Now, where was I? Right! Guerrero-dude! The uh… eccentric war veteran! Responsible for all the technical stuff. I imagine you used to be responsible for providing you lot with a get-away? Even the hair's like Murdock's, don'tcha think?" Andrew beamed, but when he failed to get any response he turned to Ames.

Guerrero had only been half-listening and only when he felt the guys look and grin at him like a choir of retards he stopped his mind from simulating more "accidents" for Andrew and forced it to remember what Andrew had said to him.

"Aaaaaaand finally- the young, innocent, but hot, female tag-along!"

"Innocent?" Ames cocked an eyebrow.

"The Amy Amanda Allen, the Tawnia Baker of your corporation! … Although I remember Tawnia to have more-"

"Dude! You did not just compare me to Murdock."

Andrew jumped at the voice right behind him and as he tried to turn around and get away from Guerrero but at the same time he managed to trip himself up and fall into the nearest empty chair.

"Get up, dude!" Guerrero snarled as he heaved the gangly youth to his feet by the collar of his slip-over. "I think I'll be able to help you sort out the differences between a babbling lunatic and a guy with highly specialised torturing skills, don't you think?"

"I'm gonna kill that crazy sucker…" Winston muttered, but was barely hiding his grin.

Guerrero shot him a shocked 'Et tu, Brute?' kind of look.

"Put him down, Guerrero, before I pity you, fool."

Guerrero amazingly did as he was told and Andrew plumped clumsily to the ground and watched as Guerrero strode over to Winston.

"See? They totally got that Murdock - B.A.-vibe going!" Andrew said to Chance, following the bickering between Winston Baracus and H.M. Guerrero with obvious delight.

"You're really not the fastest learner, are you?" Chance sighed as he watched the chaos Andrew had created now unfolded. He slunk over and diplomatically put himself between the two squabbling team mates.

"Guerrero, I really think you got no reason to complain here. I mean, really, who else would be Hannibal if not me?" Chance asked.

Ames burst out laughing.

"Oh my god! I see what you did there!" she said admiringly to Andrew. When she received questioning looks all around, she nodded toward Ilsa in her office. Andrew shrugged.

"What? I think she'd look hot in combat boots and slacks." Embarrassed he scratched the back of his head. "Even hotter in black leather gloves, if you know what I mean…"

"Don't forget the cigar!" Ames added. She enjoyed the flabbergasted looks the quarrelsome trio gave her.

"What, HER? _She_'s your Hannibal?" Chance demanded, aghast by the idea..

"Dude, that would basically make her your CO!" Guerrero snorted. Grinning, he scuffled back to his seat.

"She is _not_ my boss! Winston, tell him. We're partners, right? _Right?_"

Winston joined Guerrero and Ames in their laughter. Helpless, Chance turned back to Andrew.

"I know you're a teenager with raging hormones and I don't want to know about your military clothing fetish, but Ilsa- she is not Hannibal, okay? She doesn't come up with the plans. We do. Point is, half of the time she doesn't even know about them!"

"And there I thought you like to wing it… just like Face." Winston muttered under his breath. Then he added a muttered "Colonel…" as the person in question stepped out of the office. The five people in front of her went very quiet very suddenly, although some of them did a very poor attempt of hiding their smiles. Ilsa looked at Winston strangely for a second, then addressed their client.

"I just wanted to let you all know that you did a very good job today. Lately I get the feeling we're starting to act like a team, almost like a… a unit, I shall say. Andrew, I am glad to announce that with one last signature right here, your problems will be permanently solved. Only… try not get involved with any illegal collectible cards trading any time soon, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Andrew saluted, military style.

She handed him a document and a pen, then Ilsa bid the young man goodbye and teetered back to her office. Behind her back the smiles had broken out again when she suddenly turned around and, grinning mischievously, put her pen into her mouth and said:

"I love it when a plan comes together."

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**Review or I pity you fools!**


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